The Fallen
by Dr. Dragon
Summary: With his execution gone wrong, Harry will make his mark on a new universe, one which may not be prepared for the fury of 'The Fallen'


**Hello. Here's a new story that's been rattling around in my head for a few days. I've been watching Doctor Who again and well… see what you think. Yes it is another crossover and is one of two I have thought up involving Harry Potter.**

Prologue – Death and Birth

"Harry James Potter, you are hereby charged with the following: Eight instances of casting an unforgivable, Three cases of murder, Twenty cases of Vandalism, Thirty Two cases of Theft, One Hundred and Nine cases of breaking the Statute of Secrecy and Two Hundred and Eighty Four cases of breaking the Reasonable Restriction for Underage Sorcery. How do you plead?" This was followed by an outbreak of angry muttering from the Wizengamot as the new minister of magic Delores Umbridge looked at the Man-Who-Conquered. Harry was sitting in the famed, chair of chains that had held many before him, from Death Eaters to Muggleborns, all the way back to the infamous Mordred himself, the Progenitor of the Dark arts… and Harry's own many times great Grandfather.

"Does it matter what I plead?" Harry asked lazily. He knew he was going to lose this trial no matter what he did. "Three thousand people were there at Hogsmeade where I struck Voldemort" Cue Shudder. _Pathetic _Harry thought "down, the goblins have admitted to aiding me in removing certain valuables from the vaults of top Death Eaters, and my wand has already been checked and snapped from looking at the history of spells I cast". All true, of course.

Harry Potter had grown a lot since the little Eleven year old boy who was sorted into Ravenclaw, full of wonder and curiosity and happiness. After Voldemort's resurrection at the end of his 2nd year when his Diary had drawn on Hogwarts own ambient magic to reform a body and promptly absorbed the original bit of soul floating around, Harry had been thrust into a war. He had killed the Dark Lord at the end of his fifth year and had promptly been shipped to Azkaban. Now at the age of twenty five, the last of Harry's support both in the public and in the Wizengamot itself had faded and Umbridge, who had taken over after Fudge's death, felt safe enough to hold a trial for him. Now he had spent a decade in Azkaban, after 5 years training himself to the point of death every night which itself had been preluded by a decade under the abuse of the Dursley's had turned that boy into a man. A man full of Power and Rage. A man who was completely without Mercy to those who made themselves his enemy.

And now here he was, walking towards the veil that would remove him from this world. He looked at the flowing curtain and again heard the whispers from it. The whispers had followed him since he first saw the veil at age fourteen when he had infiltrated the ministry to remove the prophecy. He smiled as he was escorted to the edge and he calmly walked through knowing that with his death, the wizarding world would fall. His last will and testament took care of that. He had left all his money to Gringotts, to the Goblins who had made him aware of his heritage and he knew they would use his money and relics to finance a new Goblin rebellion. And like him they would show no mercy.

* * *

He was falling, that's all he knew. Falling through the black and the cold and the silence. He knew he needed to get out, he focused and pushed and tried to transform into his animagus form. A raven of course. The ancient symbol of house Potter. He managed to force his wings out before there was a loud whooshing noise and he knew nought but blackness.

* * *

His eyes snapped open as he herd a scream but he was unable to see properly. As he blinked slightly he noticed that his body felt different. It felt smaller, restricted, and weak. He tried to move and realised he had only minor motor control skills. As he blinked the last of whatever was obscuring his vision away he realised something that made his blood run cold. He was in an infant body. The body of a Baby. The scream he had heard was his _mother_ giving birth. He tried to scream but all that came out was a wail. He was quickly picked up and rocked slightly back and forth. He twisted as far as he could and looked out of a window in the ceiling. A crimson sky lay above him with twin suns twinkling. Somehow he just knew it was going to be one of those days.


End file.
